


The Water

by VigilantShadow



Category: Doctor Who, Supernatural
Genre: Gen, Season 7 AU, The Impossible Astronaut AU, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-20
Updated: 2013-07-04
Packaged: 2017-12-12 09:42:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 16,479
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/810140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VigilantShadow/pseuds/VigilantShadow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel walked into a reservoir and broke apart into a mess of ink and ancient monsters. When the Leviathan next emerged, he was no longer with them. Instead, fate transported him to a place called Lake Silencio, where a woman from a holy bloodline named River Song was trying very hard to undo a fixed point in time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Meetings

**Author's Note:**

> This is a repost of a fic written when all we had from S7 and Impossible Astronaut were the S6 finale and promo images of River underwater and prepped to kill our friend The Doctor. As such, it is massively AU. Double disclaimer: I wrote this story years ago, enough years that I don't sweep through it when doing my periodic old story edits, so if you have any storywriting issues blame past me.

Castiel watched as the Leviathans waded into the water. It was an unpleasant feeling, seeing but not being in control, and the Angel of Thursday suddenly felt immense sympathy for Jimmy Novak. The disintegrating body took an unnecessary breath and dove under the water, sending a cloud of ink shooting out of it as it dissolved. A trench coat floated towards the Winchesters.

* * *

****

Castiel opened his eyes, then realized he had no eyes to look with. Jimmy's body was gone, leaving him floating under the water in his true form. The angel attempted to teleport, but found he was too weak. And really, where would he have gone anyway? He had betrayed the Winchesters, he had fallen from Heaven, and it was unlikely he would be able to quickly find another vessel. No, it was better just to stay under the water. Perhaps if he didn't move, it would eventually purify his sins. Or kill him. It didn't really matter.

His head was so foggy. For a moment he thought it might be a lingering effect of the Leviathans, but then all he could think about was how much he hurt. He felt like his entire being was falling apart at the seams, and wished it would hurry up already.

The water was changing color. At first, he hadn't noticed the clear, sterile liquid of the reservoir giving way to the murk of a natural body of water. Then small fish began to flit across his field of vision, racing between pond plants, in a hurry to get nowhere. He wondered what had happened, but the thought slipped away before it even fully formed. Castiel's awareness flickered, and he welcomed the sensation. He slept.

* * *

****

A presence woke him, its light twirling around him, curling around his grace and pulling him forward. The small part of his mind that could still think registered it as a soul, a soul from a holy bloodline, and wondered at the power of coincidence. He reached the soul, mentally cocking his head to the side as he examined the human before him. It was wearing a bulky white suit and helmet, one that he had seen while watching a TV show when….he couldn't remember. He just remembered that the man wearing it had been able to jump very far and play a strange game involving a long metal stick and a small white ball.

This, however, was not a man, as Castiel discovered when he leaned in close. The figure in the suit was a woman, probably nearing fifty, with a mane of dark blonde curls and green eyes. She looked…the angel struggled to remember the word. Sad. That was it, she looked sad.

"Hello," he said. She didn't move. The angel remembered belatedly that his voice could rupture her eardrums, and fell silent. They stayed that way for a few moments, him staring at her and she not acknowledging his presence. Then she blinked once, twice, three times, and opened her mouth.

"Who are you?"

"I don't remember." It was true. He remembered some things. The man in the white suit jumping, a black vehicle, a rough hand pulling him up. Himself pulling the man with the rough hand up, in the exact same way. And pain, so much pain, pain and blood and a viscous black liquid that seeped into his very core. "Who are you?" He asked, to get away from the memory.

"River."

"But," The angel paused, confused, "we are in a lake." The woman looked confused as well, but then that dissolved into amused understanding.

"No, silly, that's my name." The angel blinked.

"Oh."

"Why are you here?"

"I…I need a vessel. I don't know why, but…" He trailed off. More silence.

"Do you want to know why I'm here?" Castiel made a noise of affirmation and she continued, smiling slightly, "I'm here to kill a good man."

"Why?"

"It's what I was born to do. I can't resist the urge when I'm around him."

"You don’t seem pleased by this."

"I'm not. This man, the Doctor, he’s a good man. He is a very good man and…I think…I think that I'm supposed to fall in love with him. In the future, I mean."

"But…if he's dead…"

"Ooh, sorry. Time travel. His past is my future, so our relationship is rather messy. I just…I wish this didn't have to happen." The angel contemplated for a moment before reaching into her mind. He found a blemish, a compulsion, and examined it. It was strong, too strong for a human to overcome, but an angel would likely be able to move around it.

"I can make it so you don't have to kill the Doctor."

"How?" River seemed eager, so much that it almost hurt the angel thinking of what killing the Doctor would have done to her.

"I need a vessel, and you appear to be of a suitable...bloodline. If I possess you, I should be strong enough to ignore the command." The words simply flowed: he had no foreknowledge of them, they just appeared in his mind and were voiced almost before he could process them.

The woman hesitated for only a moment before nodding. The angel put his non-corporeal hands on her head, and felt himself flow into her, ever so slowly, like the tide pushing around them. It was a comforting feeling, one of becoming whole.

The angel shut his eyes, and when he opened them again he was fully within River Song. The pieces within his mind began to settle and, though he knew he was by no means healed, at least he could think again. And he had a name. It was echoing in his head, sometimes a whisper, or a silent encouragement, in many different voices. But one was louder, more frequent than the others: A man, his voice cracking with betrayal, pleading, sorrow. Cas. Cas. Cas. His name was Cas, or Castiel, but Cas felt much more…right…

Cas smiled, aware in the back of his mind that he did not do so often, and took a deep breath. Focusing on the dim grace within himself, Castiel broke the bonds holding him to the bottom of the lake, and felt himself begin to float toward the surface.

* * *

****

The Doctor was ready to die. He had known it was coming for quite some time and had finally, finally, made peace with it. He stood on the beach, waiting for the inevitable, and his only regret was that his friends would see it as well. The impossible astronaut rose from the depths, startling Rory and Amy. River was unsurprised, but she had been here before.

The astronaut moved forward, and the Doctor took a deep breath to quell the sudden fear rising in his throat. This had to happen. Had to…

The astronaut stopped. The Doctor looked at her and smiled. "I know who you are." River. This was the last time he would see her, but one of the first times she would see him.

"I don't believe you do." The astronaut removed her helmet as she spoke and, though it was River's voice, it was not River speaking. This was something older, something sadder, than River Song. Even older and sadder than the River whom he had first met, the one about to die.

"Who are you?" the Doctor asked, putting a hand on River's forehead and reaching toward her mentally. He had expected something odd: a shapeshifter, or flesh, or perhaps a death-bot filled with miniature people. He hadn't expected what he got instead. The mind of not-River was filled with scattered thoughts and memories, and it took a moment to sort through them. When he did, all he could do was stare at the person in front of him. Behind the shattered bits of mind was a genuine angel of the Lord, or at least an angel of something that considered itself to be God.

"Scratch that question, I have a better one. Why are you here…and why are you River?"

The angel wearing River's face tilted its head to the side, looking genuinely distraught.

**"I…am lost."**


	2. Heading Off

The Doctor blinked. He hadn't been expecting that answer.

"Lost? What do you mean?" Angels could teleport (at least according to the one in front of him), and that didn't explain why he was possessing River anyway. "Literally or metaphorically?"

"Yes." The angel responded, looking ashamed. The Doctor nodded, smiling. Both then.

"Well, you're in luck! I happen to be an expert at being lost!" The angel looked confused.

"Don't you mean finding your way?"

"No, that's more my companions' job. Ponds," The Doctor suddenly remembered where they were on Amy and Rory's timeline and hastily added, "River, come over and meet our new friend…what's your name?"

"Cas."

"Ah, yes. Our new friend Cas."

"Umm, not to be rude, but-"

"She's River." Amy interrupted her husband, who continued to stare with his mouth open.

"I am possessing the one known as River Song," the angel said after a beat then, seeing the confused faces of the Ponds, elaborated, "I am an Angel of the Lord…I, apologize if I hesitated to respond when you spoke of me but I…believe I am more accustomed to being referred to as male."

"You believe? How would you not know? Doctor, I think this River is just bonkers." Amy said, looking skeptical.

"I apologize…my memory is a little faded. I believe it’s due to my becoming lost. Metaphorically," the angel clarified, his eyes becoming distant as if he was trying to remember exactly what had happened.

"But…angel of the Lord? A kid could come up with a more believable story than that!"

"I did not come up with a more believable story because it isn’t a story,” He sighed, adding on a muttered, “You’re more skeptical than Dean." Cas said the name, then blinked as though he had never heard it before, and the Doctor made a note to find this Dean. He was obviously close to the angel.

"She….he's telling the truth. At least from a certain point of view. Now, what I want to know is why you're possessing River."

"I needed a vessel to…fix my grace. River was being forced to kill you, Doctor, so she agreed to let me possess her in order to avoid that." The Doctor suddenly realized what was supposed to be happening at that precise moment and began to panic.

"But you can't! My death is a fixed point in time! The universe is probably on the verge of collapsing as we speak!" Cas was unmoved. He stared at the Doctor solemnly, then spoke as if to a small child.

"God created fixed points in time. I have circumvented them before."

"When?” Amy looked genuinely curious. Cas closed his eyes for a moment, searching for the answer.

"The biblical Apocalypse." The Doctor's mouth opened, then closed, then opened again.

"I've never heard anything about that."

"Most likely because I helped prevent it." The Doctor had no answer to that, so he did what he always did when he didn't understand the situation. He changed the subject.

"So…do you have anywhere to go?"

"I believe so." The angel said, sounding confused.

"Where?"

"I don't remember." The Doctor frowned for a moment at this, then his face broke into a mad grin.

"Well then, it appears we have an adventure ahead of us! Ponds, I will be seeing you again in…" The Doctor grabbed Amy's arm and read her watch, "Two minutes, thirty seconds. Do me a favor and make it seem like I died….but don't admit it too openly. Wouldn't want to create a paradox." With that done, the Doctor dragged a very confused Cas toward the TARDIS.

* * *

****

"It is bigger on the inside." Cas remarked calmly. The Doctor hmmed. He knew that the lack of vocal enthusiasm wasn't due to lack of interest, Castiel was just a calm person. It was amazing how much one got to know a person after one has read their mind. Even if that mind was just a little bit jumbled.

"Yes, people do say that." The Doctor yanked at a particularly recalcitrant lever, letting out a laugh when it yielded to him. Castiel nodded and moved toward the control panel, his head cocked to the side and his expression that of a curious child. He looked to the Doctor as if for confirmation and, upon receiving it, ran his hand along the control reverently.

"This machine…it’s alive." The Doctor looked up, shocked.

"How did you know?"

"It has an…energy. It feels like an angel." The angel closed his eyes for a moment, then laughed, a sweet, bubbly noise that the Doctor had a feeling he wouldn't hear often. His lips moved silently, and the Doctor stared at him.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm speaking with her. She is very intelligent. But I was right…this is an angel."

"What?"

"An angel. A Timelord angel. Apparently that's what TARDISes are, angels sealed into objects. They are meant to be…" Castiel closed his eyes and focused on the panel again, "guardians. And what better way to guard a traveler than to be his vehicle?" The Doctor furrowed his brow, looking at the control panel. It certainly made sense. After all, the TARDISes had to come from somewhere, and if humans had angels, why couldn't Timelords?

"Do you serve the same God?" The Doctor asked, curious, "And why can you talk to her?"

"I…believe that we do, yes. I can speak with her because of our kinship."

"That makes about as much sense as anything else."

"Indeed." Castiel removed his hand from the TARDIS, looking almost regretful as he did so.

"So," The Doctor said, smiling at his otherworldly companion, "Is there anywhere you want to go?" Castiel looked thoughtful for a moment.

"I don't remember where I'm supposed to go."

"Well, what do you remember?"

"It was Earth. Earth in 2011."

"2011 it is then! Well, if the TARDIS listens. Which she never does, but that's half the fun!" The Doctor typed in the coordinates and slammed on a button, sending the TARDIS spinning into the vortex with a smile on his face.


	3. Hunting

The TARDIS landed in southern Ohio, making its signature whirring noise as it materialized. Within the machine, Cas had fallen onto his backside. The Doctor hadn't, but he was nice enough not to comment. The angel allowed only a moment's hesitation before he silently got to his feet.

"You should turn off the parking brakes. It would make the landing much smoother," Cas stated in a monotone that was so not River that it was disturbing. He had changed his clothes and was now wearing dress pants, a button up shirt and a tan overcoat, which only increased the effect. Staring at the angel wearing his girlfriend's (or wife’s, maybe, he had never actually answered that question) skin, the Doctor repressed what would have been a terribly impolite shudder. It would take a while for the Timelord to get used to the arrangements. It would be handy if the angel solved his problems and got a new vessel before that was necessary, but the Doctor knew that wouldn't happen. Neither would happen until he was just getting comfortable with the celestial being, curse his luck. He hid his musings behind a cheery smile (as he often did).

"Everyone always tells me that, but I think it just adds to the old girl's charm, don't you?"

"She doesn’t appreciate being called old." Cas said, what was probably an angelic version of amusement bleeding into his voice. It didn't make much of a difference, but it was enough to make the Doctor’s discomfort lessen slightly.

"Sorry," he apologized, only very slightly so, then moved toward the door, "Now, let's see where we landed," He had chosen the U.S. for a very specific reason. When reading Cas' mind, most of what he’d felt had been abstract intentions and emotional reactions, but there were a few flashes of memory. All of those memories, with one exception that the angel didn't seem to like at all, had spoken with American accents. So he had aimed toward America and, it appeared, actually hit the target. It seemed the TARDIS approved of his quest to help the angel.

They were in a ridiculously green field. So green, in fact, that the Doctor almost thought the TARDIS had decided to mess with them all and they had actually landed on a different planet. Then, however, he saw a terrified-looking man in a postman's uniform running toward his van. Yes, this was definitely Earth. The Doctor caught sight of a sign that appeared to point toward a small town and followed it, Cas at his heels.

* * *

****

Within minutes they reached the town. It could barely be called a town, more like a small grouping of shops that probably serviced a dozen or so houses scattered around it, but that was beside the point.

The Doctor stood in the dusty street, attempting to decide what piece of small-town charm to investigate first. After much consideration, he decided upon the bar. It was a tall wood and stone building covered in small splotches of peeling paint, indicating that it had once been colored in garishly bright reds and yellows. The sign hanging above the door was equally worn, a sparsely clad young cowgirl in what was once a red shirt gesturing to the name "Ok Corral". The sign seemed unnecessary though, as this did not look like a tourist town and so all of its patrons had probably been visiting since they had their first beer. This bar, with its noisy music and laughter, was a meeting place, the sort of place the Doctor could use to find out why the TARDIS had brought them to Ohio.

The Timelord took a step forward, only to be stopped when Cas put a hand on his shoulder. The Doctor glanced back to find the angel, who looked confused, pressing his free hand against his temple.

"Something's here. Something…wrong," Cas said, saying the final word like he knew it did no justice to just how bad whatever the "something" was. The Doctor nodded, removing the appendage from his person.

"Dealing with things that are wrong is my specialty," Then, because he figured it was worth asking, "Do you know what it is?" Having someone tell him the problem before he stumbled into its center would have been quite nice, but the angel just shook his head. He looked afraid that he had failed some kind of test, so the Doctor smiled at him, ignored once again how not River he looked, and continued walking.

The bar was filled with smoke and the smell of cheap liquor, making The Doctor wish he could double over hacking without losing credibility. Cas looked unhappy, but he seemed to have been in situations like these often enough to keep his calm. Lucky for him.

The Doctor sat down at the bar and smiled at the burly man serving drinks. He had approximately two teeth and a rather impressive mustache, which twitched as he scowled at the new arrivals. After a few moments, the man seemed to give up on his solid refusal to serve the obvious city slickers and walked toward the pair.

"What do you want?" the man asked, his voice low and tinged with a Texas accent so thick it sounded almost fake.

"Umm, actually," The Doctor flashed his psychic paper and the man's brow furrowed, "My…partner and I would like to know if anything strange has been happening around here lately." The bartender stared at the two intensely for a moment and then relaxed, a grin on his face.

"You two are the hunters, ain't ya?" The Doctor blinked, then opened his mouth to come up with a cover story, but Cas beat him to it.

"Yes. We are. Now, could you please answer our question?" The angel stared, unblinking, at the man across from the bar.

"Course I can. Anything to get this crap over with as soon as possible. Hey, hotshot," he yelled to a young man lounging in a chair. He gave a long-suffering sigh and stood, attempting to move with a confident swagger but failing due to his gawky adolescent limbs, and walked to the bar, "watch things while I talk to these two," The boy nodded. The bartender stepped around the bar, wiping his hands on a rag. Nodding to the two, he began to move through the crowd, patrons shifting to the side to allow him passage.

"Name's Cliff." The bartender said.

"John Smith."

"Cas." Cas stared at Cliff as though he could see into the man's very soul which, given the fact that he was an angel (or something similar to an angel, because angels didn't exist, supernatural things like that were pure rubbish) might be true. Cliff didn't notice, speaking to them as though they were old friends, a far cry from the guarded hostility of just moments before. Obviously, The Doctor thought, being a hunter carried a lot of weight with the man.

"It's good to meet ya. So, why didn't James tell you I knew about the hunt?" Perhaps there was another reason Cliff apparently trusted them so suddenly. "Oh, come on. You must know who James is. Skinny little British asshole, keeps track of all the hunts from here all the way to northern Missouri? Which, let me tell you, makes things way easier than havin' ta look for them the old-fashioned way." The Doctor rebounded quickly from this little turn of events.

"Of course we know James, we're just surprised he didn't tell us anything," Cliff shook his head, grumbling sympathetically.

"That little shit loves to screw with people. Bet he's just laughin' it up in his stupid little office right now. Swear to God, sometimes I just wanna punch the guy." The Doctor nodded, while Cas was silent. None of them spoke for a few moments.

"Here we are," Cliff said when they reached the far wall. It sported an inconspicuous door labeled "staff only" in neat red letters, and Cliff pulled it open, guiding them through it.

The room behind it was moderately-sized. The only piece of actual furniture was a beaten blue sofa pushed against one wall, facing toward an old TV (rabbit ears? Really? The Doctor didn't think those even still worked in 2011) which sat on a pile of pizza boxes. The room had no windows, and the carpet was dirtier than could possibly be legal.

Those weren't the features that the Doctor found most interesting about the room, however. One was the abundance of weapons, both modern and medieval, laid in meticulous piles around the room. The other was the supernatural paraphernalia: newspaper clippings, the salt that the three of them had barely stepped over when entering the room, the sigils drawn in both paint and blood on the walls. The Timelord leaned over to Cas and whispered in his ear, "Do you know what's happening? What are hunters?"

"I'm…unsure. But I believe they hunt monsters."

"What? What sort of monsters?" The Doctor ran through all the things he had encountered that seemed monstrous. There were many extraterrestrial beings that could conceivably be mistaken for the supernatural. What The Doctor didn't understand was how there was apparently a large group of disorganized humans successfully fighting them off.

"Demons. Ghosts. I think that I remember…a vampire?" Before the Doctor could respond, say that ghosts weren't real, that there had to be a scientific explanation, Cliff interrupted them.

"What are you two talkin' about?" The Doctor blinked.

"We were just, umm, wondering if it would be polite to ask why you don't hunt whatever it is that's causing the problem yourself," Cliff shrugged.

"To put it simply, I'm too old. I do some smaller hunts, but I'm nearin' sixty. I don't have the stamina for somethin' like this. I know you kids don't understand this, but you can't hunt forever. I just count myself lucky I got out of the game through retirement instead of the other way."

The Doctor thought about telling the man that he, and probably Cas, were about ten times older than most humans ever got, but decided after reexamining the incredibly violent contents of the room that admitting he wasn't human to Cliff would be a bad idea. After a moment of awkward silence, Cliff gestured toward the couch. The Doctor sat, shifting slightly around a wire protruding from the stained fabric. Cas remained standing, head tilted slightly to the side. Cliff pulled a newspaper from the top of a messy pile and held it up for the other two to see.

"On to the hunt, then," The paper was dated from early September. Most of the articles were typical small town stuff: the school was having a penny drive, there was a power outage after the recent windstorm. But one stood out, its headline splashed in large font across the front page: Unexplained Killings in Bransen. Cliff pointed to the article. "People have been turnin' up dead these past few weeks. The killins ain't something a human could manage. The bodies were ripped to shreds, organs missin', the blood spread all over like some piece of fucked up modern art. Whatever it is, obviously no one told it about gravity."

"One of the local cops is a hunter's nephew, so he's been givin' us info on this case. He said that he couldn't find any of the normal spook signs, but he did find this," Cliff held up a plastic bag filled with a thick, black goop. The Doctor raised his eyebrow at this. He was suddenly glad he was no longer his previous regeneration, who had the urge to taste everything. He had a feeling that licking the gunk would be both unappetizing and socially inappropriate.

Instead, he turned to Cas, opening his mouth to ask what the angel thought about the situation. He stopped, however, when he caught sight of the celestial being in River's body. Cas was standing, body rigid and completely still, as he stared at the gunk. Then he began to shake slightly, his eyes filled with a mixture of confusion, pain and terror. His mouth opened, and he spoke so quietly the Doctor had to lean in to hear.

**"Leviathans."**


	4. Meeting the Enemy

"You know what these things are?"

Cas barely registered the Doctor's question, too busy searching for the memory from which he’d pulled the name. Was it from Heaven? No. A friend? No. Did he fight them? He didn't think so.

Then where?

Suddenly Cas was no longer in Cliff's back room. He was standing in a…library? There were books lining the walls, covering them from ceiling to floor. He tried to read the titles, but couldn't.

His head was filled to the brim with voices, so many he was afraid the thoughts would leak out his ears. They were all whispering to him, whispering so many different things it drowned out his own wants and needs, giving him no choice but to follow the wishes of the majority, which told him to look around.

There were people in the room, all standing so as to be in his blind spot. There were four of them, all men: two young, one older, one positively ancient. The ancient one told him he had bitten off more than he could chew, that he had released something far beyond his control. The Others ignored him. The man looked frail, but Cas could sense that his weak form was barely containing vast reserves of power. When Cas refused to acknowledge him, he continued, irritated:

“There were things far more powerful than souls in purgatory, things far older than the angels. Leviathans. You cannot control them," A few of the voices listened, but the majority just snickered and declared the old man a fool.

One of the younger men stared at him, sad green eyes pleading with Cas to just listen. The other just looked at him as though he wasn't quite sure what to feel. Cas heard his own voice, a faint whisper in the back of his head begging for help. But he was not the majority.

* * *

 

He was standing in a cement room, and the man with the sad eyes was in front of him. He was alone in his own head now; he could hear himself apologizing both mentally and aloud. The man, 'Dean, his name is Dean. Dean Winchester, the righteous man' looked torn between being happy and angry. Then his head began to hurt, and he was not alone anymore. The Leviathans appeared, tearing his mind to pieces, and his was no longer a voice among many. He was just a broken scream.

* * *

 

The Leviathans walked into the water and disappeared, leaving only Castiel's shattered Grace.

* * *

 

"Cas, are you alright?"

Cas was back in Cliff's bar. The Doctor and Cliff were staring at him, both clearly worried.

"I am fine." He wasn't, but he didn't want to tell them that. The Doctor looked like he might have had an aneurism if anything was wrong. Cas remembered then that the Doctor was in love with his vessel, and was most likely just concerned about her.

Cliff looked skeptical, but he didn't voice his suspicions. Instead, he asked, "So do ya know anything about these freaks?"

Cas nodded hesitantly, "I believe so. Myself and," Cas didn't know how to describe Dean and the staring man, "some friends of mine encountered them. They are very old monsters. I'm not completely sure, but…" Cas closed his eyes and tried to focus on the memory of the Leviathans' voices. Snatches of conversations and arguments (mostly arguments) shifted in and out of his mind. They varied in tone and…vocabulary choice (Cas was not aware that one could speak only in swear words), but they mostly boiled down to one thing: hunger. And the source of their hunger was…Cas winced, feeling sick, "I believe they consume human organs."

"So this isn't just happenin' around here? Shit," Cliff muttered under his breath. The Doctor nodded emphatically, and Cas couldn't help but agree. Shit was a very good description of the situation.

"Do you know how to, uh, kill them?" The Doctor would rather resolve the situation in any way other than killing. Somehow, though, he didn't think that would work out.

Cas shook his head, looking regretful. Cliff sighed.

"Well, I guess I'll get to researchin' the bastards then," Cliff pulled a paper from his pocket and handed it to the Doctor, "Here's the police station's address. Ask for James Bristoll. He's the hunter's nephew I told ya about. Now get, I've got work to do." The Doctor nodded and left the room, Cas trailing close behind. Cliff wasn't the only one with work to do.

* * *

 

Alexander Mulch had work to do. Homework, to be specific. Homework, which corresponded to a heavy backpack, which corresponded to an inability to run away when Byron Davie, the hulking giant of Crestview High, and his goons began approaching him menacingly. For a moment, Alex considered ditching his backpack, but decided against it: the bullies could easily outrun him and Alex didn't want to chance losing his bag.

Byron reached Alex, a grin twisting his face. The larger boy grabbed the smaller one's shirt as one of his more muscular lackeys darted around Alex and seized his arms from behind.

"So, nerd. Finish your homework yet? Or were you too busy being a dweebus?" Alex wondered if Byron was capable of coming up with any creative insults, or if he got them all from some bad slice-of-life TV show. That would sure explain a few things. Alex's musings were interrupted by Byron's fist violently making contact with his stomach.

Alex didn't bother struggling. The boy restraining him had arms like tree trunks. At least it's Tuesday, he thought. Tuesdays were good because Byron and his mooks met with the football coach at four instead of four-thirty, thus sparing him a half an hour of torture. Alex shut his eyes, resolving to just let it happen. That usually made things go faster.

Suddenly, Alex's arms were released and he fell flat on his face. He pushed himself back up to his hands and knees, looking around. All of the lackey brigade's members were backing away, looking horrified. At first, Alex couldn't think of anything that could make people like them so scared, but then he caught sight of Byron and understood.

Byron was lying not five feet away, a gaping wound in his neck. Crouched over him was Vincent Craft, the kindly old man who ran the local grocery. Alex didn't know whether Byron was dead, but he sort of hoped so. Otherwise…oh God, he didn't want to think about how that would feel. Alex shook his head, hoping he had hit it when he fell and was hallucinating. No such luck.

The thing wearing Mr. Craft's skin looked up, its eyes blazing hungrily. It jumped on one of the escaping boys, snapping his neck with practiced ease. The monster smiled, blood dripping down its face and onto its shirt.

"Ah-ah-ah, running away is not allowed," The thing moved so fast Alex could barely follow it, catching each of the boys and dispatching them efficiently. Alex knew he should try to escape, but his limbs refused to make the attempt. Besides, he thought, the thing would just catch me.

The creature stood and walked towards Alex, its movements far more fluid and graceful than Vincent Craft's ever were. Alex gulped, praying very fervently that his death would be quick.

It wasn't.

It never even happened.

Instead, the thing leaned over him, exhaling hot, smelly breath into his face. Alex quickly looked downwards, not wanting to see the thing's feverish eyes. Eventually, though, he tore his gaze from the ground and looked at the monster. There was a mad smile on its face.

"Why hello there, little monkey. Scared?" It chuckled, taking Alex's chin in its hand and turning the boy's head first to the left, then to the right. Inspecting him. "Oh, don't be. I'm not going to eat you," The chuckle morphed into a full blown cackle that sent a shiver up Alex's spine.

After a few moments of maniacal laughter, the monster calmed down and looked at Alex speculatively. Its grin somehow got even wider. "Actually, that gives me an idea. I'm not going to eat you. I'm going to use you as my little messenger," The creature got even closer, whispering in the boy’s ear: "Tell the hunters that the Leviathans have come," Then, before Alex could say that he didn't understand, that there wasn't any wildlife in Crestview, much less people to hunt it, the monster (Leviathan?) threw him on the ground. After that, everything got dark rather quickly.


	5. Interrogation

The Doctor had discovered two things while at the Crestview Police Station. The first was that police weren't very useful (not really a new discovery, but that hardly mattered). The second was that James Bristoll wasn't a very nice person.Compared to some of the not-very-nice people the Doctor had met, Detective James Bristoll didn't even rank in the top 1000. But he was still kind of a jerk.

When the Doctor had requested him at the Department's front desk (which was run by a very nice woman by the name of Pearl), the police officer had taken a few minutes to appear. He was tall and black-haired, wearing the expression of a man who had just been woken up and was very resentful of the interruption to his sleep schedule. He even had the proper bed hair.

When the Doctor had privately introduced himself and Cas as hunters, James had grunted a rather angry-sounding "about time you got here" and led them down a brightly lit hallway.

"We just got another set of victims yesterday afternoon. Group of football players from the local high school, all of them ripped to pieces. This one was weird though," James paused.

"How so?" The Doctor wasn't quite sure what could make a monster that ate people any weirder. Well, he actually was, but none of them were good so he hoped it was something else.

"The thing left one of them alive."

Cas tilted his head, looking curious."Perhaps the child is the monster?"

"No, no. He isn't," James shook his head, as though there was absolutely nothing in the world more ridiculous.

"How do you know?" the Doctor asked.

"Well, the kid was found unconscious, for one. Thing hit him over the head, no way that he could've done it to himself and no way he could've been eating other kids. No way any of those boys would've been able to hit him after what was done to them either. Besides," James chuckled under his breath, "I don't think Alexander Mulch could've taken any of those kids."

"Why?"

"Well, he was…let's just say he's not very good when it comes to defending himself. Hell, kid's not very good at anything at all."

"That's not very nice," The Doctor could smell a town outcast. He could smell a lot of other things as well, like the fact that Bristoll had neglected to shower that morning.

"If we didn’t already know the culprit, I would say that this boy had likely summoned a spirit to eliminate his enemies," Cas whispered to the Doctor, looking at James distastefully.

"Have you dealt with anything like that before?" the Doctor asked.

"I believe so, but...I can’t remember."

"Would you two stop flirting? We're here," James opened a door and ushered the two fake Hunters through it.

* * *

 

Alex was scared. Almost as scared as he had been when the monster was butchering half the football team in front of him, but not quite. He didn't think that he would ever reach that level of terror again unless the monster came to the police department and butchered the other half, and even then Alex thought he might have been desensitized enough the first time that it wouldn't be so bad anymore.

He was going on a tangent again. He always went on tangents when he was anxious, and he was very anxious at the moment. The police officers had, upon being informed that he did not have a concussion and could thus leave the hospital, dragged him out of bed and brought him to the PD. They hadn't spoken to him, which had Alex very worried. He hoped that they didn't think he killed Byron and his friends. That would be very bad.

The door to the interrogation room opened and two men and a woman entered. One of them was James Bristoll, which was probably bad because Detective Bristoll was always cranky whenever he was forced to actually do police work. He didn't recognize the other two, which was also bad because…

"Hello, I'm Agent Smith and this is Agent…" The strange man trailed off, and the woman picked up immediately.

"Novak."

"We're with the FBI," Fuck. He was so screwed. No one was going to believe that senile, crippled Vincent Craft had killed six people with his bare hands. They certainly weren't going to believe that he was a Leviathan or whatever the thing was. Alexander Mulch was going to jail for the rest of his life. Which would be rather short, because he wasn't the sort of person who would do well in maximum security prison. Which is where he assumed they sent mass murderers. He was so fucked.

"Don’t worry, you are not currently a suspect. You are simply our only witness in this case," The woman, Novak, seemed to read his mind, and Alex let out a sigh of relief.

"Umm…well, of course I'll help," Agent Smith smiled, apparently satisfied with that answer. Detective Bristoll scoffed, apparently skeptical that Alex could help with anything important.

"What did you see?" Agent Smith asked, voice smooth, comforting and very British. Alex hadn't thought that FBI agents were supposed to sound British.

Alex took a deep breath, "Well. I was walking home from school, as usual, when Byron Davie, the school quarterback and his friends showed up. They…started hassling me. Then Byron wasn't there anymore and when I looked for him, he was lying on the ground," Alex's throat closed up, "and this thing was eating him. It…looked like Mr. Craft, the local grocer. But it-it wasn't. There's no way Mr. Craft would do something like that. It killed all of them, really fast. I'd blink, and another of them would be dead. I wanted to run, but I just couldn't move, and I think that even if I could’ve there wouldn’t have been any point. So when the thing turned towards me I just closed my eyes and waited for it to be over," Alex thought he heard Detective Bristoll mutter 'coward', "but it didn't kill me. Umm. It told me to tell the 'hunters'…whoever they are…that the Leviathans are here. And then it knocked me out. And I woke up in the hospital,” He closed his eyes, searching for any more information, “Yeah. That's it."

Agent Smith nodded at him. He was smiling, but he seemed like something was troubling him. Which it probably was, considering the situation. Detective Bristoll frowned.

"That sounds incredibly exciting, but also impossible," Bristoll said, his voice lazy. Agent Smith frowned at the detective, and Alex decided that he liked both of the FBI agents very much.

"Oh, come off it, Detective. I can understand that you want to keep this secret, but you're going to lie to the boy? There's no way that he can just go home and pretend this didn't happen!"

"The number one rule of our profession: Don't talk about it," Detective Bristoll growled.

"This isn't Fight Club."

"What's Fight Club?" Alex though he heard Agent Novak whisper.

"Now isn't the time, Cas," Agent Novak was silenced by Agent Smith's reprimand.

"Fine. Tell the twerp. It won't be my fault when he gets himself killed. He doesn't have the stuff to be a hunter," Detective Bristoll exited the room, huffing to himself. Alex blinked at the two agents.

"Did you just say hunter?"


	6. The Villain Arrives

"So Byron was killed…by an ancient monster that eats people. And you two are actually monster hunters who came to town to kill it."

Alex considered pinching himself to prove that this wasn't a dream, but then decided that it couldn't be. He would have woken up when the monster (Leviathan, as he now knew it to be called) knocked him unconscious, and if that was real then there was absolutely no reason why the rest of it wouldn't be. If he had been calmer he would have actually been relieved that it was real, because that meant he wasn’t just having a mental breakdown.

Agent Smith nodded vigorously. "Yes, that's right. We also think that they can take people's shapes...or at least possess them," Alex thought that Smith's eyes flicked over to Novak for just a moment, but he was probably just imagining things. "That's why it looked like your grocer friend."

"So…what now? I mean, how are you guys going to hurt it? It ripped the biggest guy in school apart with its bare hands!"

Agent Smith smiled uneasily, sitting down on the edge of the table that occupied the center of the interrogation room.

"Well, you see, that's the problem. We don't exactly know how to kill them."

Alex blinked.

"What? You mean you guys are going to go up against a freakishly strong supernatural creature that you don’t know how to kill? And could be totally unkillable for all you know?"

"Nothing is completely indestructible," Agent Novak responded evenly.

"How do you know?"

The female Agent's expression grew grim.

"Experience," The way she said it left no room for argument, so Alex didn't try. Besides, what could he say? He was a sixteen year old who spent half his time tripping over his own two feet and the other half tripping over other people's feet; he didn't know a thing about monster fighting. He checked his watch, gulping when he realized that it was well past six.

"Is there…umm…anything else that you need to ask me about, or can I go now?" His mother would be upset with him if he was late for dinner without an excuse and even more upset if she knew he was with the police. The typical stony silence of Mulch family suppers was unbearable enough without the disapproving stare of its matriarch added into the mix.

"No. But be careful. The Leviathan might come after you," Agent Smith hopped off the table and opened the door. He then abruptly closed it.

"I was right. He did come after you."

"How do you know?" Alex asked.

"He's here?" Novak asked, though it sounded less like a question and more like an assumption that she had already made and was only stating aloud for Alex's benefit.

"Shit."

For once, Alex was in total agreement with Agent Bristoll.

* * *

The Leviathan wiped blood from its mouth with the back of its hand, standing up from its newest kill and examining the front room of the Crestview Police Department boredly. Slaughtering all of the town's detectives had been far less exciting than it had expected.

Excitement was really the only reason why the creature had come to the backwater, backwards town of Crestview. Well, excitement and the fact that it was just far enough away from the higher-ups that it didn't think they would catch up. It hated its superiors almost as much as it hated boredom.

When the Leviathan had first emerged from the faucet of a man named Ryan Knowles, it had simply been glad to be free from purgatory and melting vessels. Then, the joy of freedom was overpowered by the joy of being alone. For the past few hundred thousand years, the Leviathans had existed as a massive clump, squabbling and screaming at each other so loudly that an individual Leviathan often could not tell whether they were one of the participants or not, simply because the arguments drowned out its individual thoughts. When it entered Ryan Knowles, however, it was left alone to its thoughts. Well, after it mentally beat Ryan's consciousness to death.

That solitude hadn't lasted, however, as soon one of the other Leviathans (one inhabiting a Hispanic man whose name this Leviathan couldn't quite remember) had come knocking on its door and demanding it become involved in the boss's plan. The other Leviathan had continued hounding it for quite a while, and it became sick of the attention rather quickly. The experience reminded it a bit too much of the claustrophobic social situation in Purgatory.

So, the Leviathan left. It left South Dakota and set off in a random direction, taking care not to kill too many people until it was at least two states over so as to avoid attracting attention from its brethren. It didn't want to have to deal with them anymore, it just wanted to have fun. It thought the idea of forcing some hapless Hunters to chase it would be rather enjoyable. At the moment though, the whole fiasco was just too simple for the Leviathan's taste.

The problem, the Leviathan thought as it skimmed over a map of the building that was posted behind the front desk, was that it hadn't met the Hunters yet. That would soon change, however. Those two suits who had entered the building exactly an hour ago weren't human, the Leviathan could practically taste it. The man was from a species it couldn't identify, and it thrilled in his strangeness. The woman, though, it recognized. The woman was the little angel Castiel, the one who had so graciously allowed them to share its meatsuit until it exploded. And if there was one thing the Leviathan had learned from poking around the angel's mind, it was that where Castiel was, Hunters were sure to follow.

As the Leviathan stalked toward the PD's only hallway, a door opened and a man peeked out. The male non-human. When the man caught sight of the Leviathan, he hastily shut the door.

The Leviathan smiled and walked toward the interrogation room at a leisurely pace, confident that its little game of cat and mouse was about to become much more fun.

* * *

 

The Doctor tried, futilely it seemed, to calm Alex down. As soon as the boy had realized the repercussions of a flesh-eating monster trapping them in a tiny room, he had begun to hyperventilate. The Doctor was quite sure that he would be doing much better attempting to quiet the teen if Detective Bristoll hadn't immediately started muttering about last stands and taking the thing down with them.

"Did you actually see the Leviathan, or just bodies?" Cas asked. The mention of corpses managed to freak Alex out even more. The Doctor shot Cas a look, and the angel had the decency to look ashamed.

"It was there."

Cas frowned."It knows where we are then. That’s rather unfortunate," Cas walked towards the Doctor. The Time Lord was about to ask what he was doing, but then the angel knelt down and put a hand on Alex's forehead. The boy's breathing began to slow, and his hands stopped shaking. When he was calm, the teen looked up at the angel.

"What did you do?"

Cas ignored the question."Because this is likely your first time dealing with a potentially lethal situation, your reaction is perfectly natural. But now is not a good time to be functioning on impaired mental capacity, so please try to remain calm."

"Answer the kid's question," demanded Bristoll, glaring at Cas.

"I see no reason why I should."

"What you just did isn't normal." The detective's stare looked as though it could possibly level a building, but Cas was unaffected.

"At the moment, we have other concerns."

Bristoll grumbled, but before he could actually argue there was a pounding on the door.

"He's here," Alex said, already sounding shaky again. The teen was doing better this time, however, and the Doctor made a note to congratulate him if they both survived.

"Everyone press yourselves up against the walls on either side of the door," the Doctor said. Cas looked at him, surprised.

"Why?"

"When that thing opens the door, if it only sees me you might be able to slip out."

"I’m fairly sure that Leviathans have peripheral vision."

"What do you suggest?"

Cas was silent.

"You can’t sacrifice yourself, River will be displeased if you do."

"You can't sacrifice River, or I'll be displeased. That leaves the detective and Alex. Are you suggesting we let the Leviathan kill one of them?"

Cas said nothing for a long moment. Then, he let out a sigh, the sigh of a person who was very used to people coming up with suicidal plans, and pressed himself against the wall. Bristoll and Alex followed, the detective holding his gun in such a manner that he could easily shoot the Leviathan if it was stupid enough to stand in the doorway. Then came a loud thud, followed by several more. There was a sound of groaning metal, and then the door flew open and the Leviathan strode into the room.


	7. A Short Burst of Action, Followed by an Inordinately Long Period of Reflection

The Doctor's plan wasn't going to work. The angel had realized that it wasn't going to work the moment the Doctor suggested it. But Cas knew that the Doctor wouldn't listen, that he always had to at least try to make things right by himself (he didn't know how he knew, but he had a feeling it was because he knew someone else who was very similar), so he kept his mouth shut. Pretended to agree, made token protest, and ensured that Bristoll and Alex were on the same side of the door as he was. Cas leaned over and whispered in Bristoll's ear.

"When the Leviathan comes in, grab Smith and Alex's arms," The detective looked at Cas as though he was now completely sure that the angel belonged in a mental ward, "I can assure you that it is completely necessary.”

Bristoll grumbled, but didn't protest too loudly.

The Leviathan stormed into the room, a grin spreading on its face as it looked around at the assorted humans and angel. Before it could sink its foul claws into any of their group, Cas grabbed onto Alex's arm, glancing around the boy to make sure that Bristoll had grabbed the other one, and teleported.

They were in a closet. Cas sighed. Of course they were in a closet. It would be totally ludicrous for him to even consider that they would appear in someplace dignified…or at least someplace with an easy escape route. Really, he didn't know why he even expected things to be simple anymore.

"Where are we?" the Doctor asked, looking quite composed considering the situation. Cas looked around, and was thankful for his angelic eyesight. Otherwise, he would not have been able to see Bristoll's discombobulated expression.

"I believe we’re in a supply closet."

"I think a better question is why we're in a goddamn supply closet, if you ask me," Bristoll said.

"I teleported you here. It was that or be eaten by the Leviathan," Cas said calmly. Really, was it that difficult to figure out? The Doctor frowned.

"So you didn't want to follow the plan? Why didn't you just say so?"

Cas sighed,"I did. You didn't listen. Not that I expected you to."

"So you went behind my back?"

"It’s the only way to get people like yourself to listen."

"And where did you get that impression?

Castiel released a slow, steady breath. Crowley was finally gone. The angel had thought it would be impossible to be so thoroughly disgusted with a person as he was with the demon (after all, he had kept calm when witnessing the atrocities committed in Hell), but he was being proven wrong with every meeting.

He had been meeting with the "King of the Crossroads" for ten months, and he could feel the strain of his complicity with the monster building in his chest like it was something alive and malevolent. Every time he saw the Winchesters now, he had this urge to just tell them everything, to call the whole plan off and simply focus on trying to stop it.

He never did.

The reasons for his silence had changed many times over the past ten months. First, it was because he thought Dean had the happy life he always wanted, and being around Sam (who might perhaps have understood, in his condition) made his Grace recoil almost as much as it had when the man was drinking demon blood. Then, it was simply because they were so busy trying to get Sam put back together again that there was simply no time. After a while, he had developed this desire to complete the plan on his own, to save the world independently of the brothers. To prove himself. That was before the war with Raphael had taken a turn for the worse and he had decided that dragging the brothers into a mess that wasn't theirs would be cruel.

Now, though, he honestly just didn’t care. He hated his plan. It was amoral (at best) from the start. The only reason he had lowered himself so far as to participate in it was because there was no other option. Besides, it wasn't like he could have stopped it: even if he retracted his assistance, Crowley had the supplies necessary to open Purgatory on his own, and a demon with all the souls in Purgatory in his grasp was not something Castiel could abide by.

It was then that he realized the real reason why he couldn't tell the Winchesters of his plan. They would never agree to help him, would insist on some convoluted scheme that didn't involve "getting into bed with a demon" and would inevitably fail and lead to one or both of them dying. They had a penchant for those schemes. It didn't matter how much he argued his case, or how much he pointed out that there was no other option; they wouldn't ever agree with him. So he would just have to guide Sam and Dean into following his plan without telling them. He would tell them about the plan on the eve of its fruition, when even they couldn’t believe that there was another solution.

It was really the only way to get people like them to listen.

Cas blinked, clearing the cobwebs of memory from his eyes. Purgatory. He dimly remembered the plan to open it, and he hadn't remembered anything about Crowley aside from his voice. The only thing that he really recognized was Dean, and the other young man from the library. At least now he had a name for him. It had felt so wrong not knowing Sam's name.

The Plan, as he mentally decided to refer to it, wasn't one of his greater moments. In that instance, perhaps refraining from seeking assistance had been unwise. This time was different. This time it was his companion who had come up with the ridiculous scheme, not him. Still, the parallel was unnerving.

It was then that Castiel realized the Doctor was still staring at him, waiting for an answer. He had probably been waiting for quite a while, judging by the irritated expression Bristoll was sporting.

"Some friends of mine," Cas averted his eyes from the Doctor.

"Ah," the Doctor said. There was silence in the supply closet.


	8. Fun With Soap

Alex's feet were falling asleep. His feet had never fallen asleep while he was standing up before. So it was a new experience, and one he was not enjoying very much. Alex took a few steps, trying to urge the pins and needles out of his legs.

Instead of relieving his pain, he tripped on something, cursing quietly as he ran into the wall. He bent down and picked up whatever it was he’d tripped over, glaring at it angrily but unable to determine its identity in the dark. He hated it when inanimate objects made a fool out of him.

"God damn it kid, are you trying to tell the Leviathan where we are?" Bristoll hissed, his voice like an unholy mix between a snake and some sort of feral dog. Alex frowned.

"It's not like it even matters. It'll find us eventually, and we're still inside the police station. We basically traded our first death trap in for a smaller one."

"Yes. I was wondering about that. Cas, why haven't you teleported us out yet?" Agent Smith asked. Alex heard the rustling of cloth, and he’d had enough experience being privy to conversations he couldn't see (mostly when he was stuffed in a locker or blindfolded by one of the jock squad) to identify someone's embarrassed shifting.

"I…don’t have my full powers back yet. I could attempt to teleport again, but there’s just as much chance that we would end up in the same room as the Leviathan as there is of us escaping. The only reason I did so before was because…well…we were so close that being teleported even closer was very improbable."

"Great, so we're trapped here?" Bristoll asked.

"Essentially," Agent Novak replied, her voice even but laced with a hint of exhaustion that made Alex think continuing to argue with her would just be incredibly rude and pointless. The room was quiet again.

A sliver of light appeared in the room. 'At least now we know where the door is,' Alex thought. He hadn't been able to tell in the dark.

"Honey, I'm ho-ome," The Leviathan's voice was sickly sweet, and when it peered in it was sporting a smile filled with an impossible number of sharp teeth. Alex panicked, throwing the object in his hands at the beast.

He had no doubt that everyone in the room was surprised when it jumped back, screaming as its faced sizzled and burned. It fell to the ground, writhing, and for the first time Alex didn't feel sick over watching something in pain.

"What the fuck," Bristoll sounded like he expected the beast to jump up and yell surprise. When it didn't, he stepped forward and examined the object Alex had thrown. "Seriously? Soap takes these things down? These supposedly immortal creatures, which have rampaged through the country for weeks, and suds are their greatest weakness?"

"It makes sense. Leviathans are creatures of the water. They, for lack of a better word, pollute the substance, so it makes sense that a cleanser should injure it," Agent Novak sounded surprised, the emotion in her voice the strongest it had been since Alex had met her.

"What now?" With the crisis averted, Alex had thought he would be able to calm down and take control of his situation. Instead, he just felt more flustered (and, perversely, a little bit upset that it was over).

"It isn't dead," Agent Smith said, looking down at the thing with something like pity in his eyes as it writhed on the ground. Alex would have been offended, but Smith looked like the sort of person who would have felt pity for the devil himself were he to have the opportunity. Agent Novak nodded and, with a flick of her wrist, a long, shiny blade appeared in her hand. Alex didn't even have it in him to be surprised.

"If we separate the head from the body, it will be unable to reform. The damage won’t truly kill it, but I believe it will cause it to lose consciousness. Either way, it will be prevented from continuing its rampage," Without waiting for confirmation from any of the others, she stepped forward and decapitated it with one clean stroke. The body went still, and Novak picked up the head, holding it at a distance from the rest of the corpse.

"I trust that you can dispose of the body? My partner and I will take the head."

Bristoll nodded."I'll just…call Cliff and tell him this is all over."

* * *

 

The Doctor didn't want to think about how much it hurt to see River's body covered in blood and black goo. He had almost managed to come to peace with their situation, but this…

* * *

 

"Well, I gotta say, you two seem to be damn fine Hunters if I do say so myself. Which I can. It's one a the perks to bein' the oldest salt in town. Thanks for solvin' our Leviathan problem," Cliff clapped a hand on the Doctor's shoulder. The smaller man winced.

"Oh, it was nothing. We were just glad to help," The Doctor caught Cas nodding wordlessly in his peripheral vision.

"Well, if you ever need any help, don't hesitate to call," Cliff handed the Doctor a card. The Time Lord took it, smiling.

They walked into the next room of the PD, where Alex was waiting for a ride home. The boy was sitting on an interview table, picking nervously at a loose string on his sleeve.

"Hello, Alex," Alex looked up and smiled nervously.

"Hi, Agent Smith."

"I have a question for you, Alex," The boy silently raised an eyebrow, so the Doctor continued, "I think you know by now that my partner isn't human." Alex snorted. "Yes, yes, I know. Quite obvious. But…I must admit that that isn’t the only…difference we have from normal people. For instance, my name isn't-"

"Agent Smith? Yeah, I figured. If I was going around hunting monsters, I wouldn't be telling people my real name either."

"Yes. Well. Most people call me the Doctor and I'm…well…I'm a time traveler, for lack of a better word. I have a blue box called the TARDIS, and I travel everywhere in time and space with my companions. I can take them around the universe, travel with them for years and years and still get them home for dinner. Would you be interested in that?"

Alex seemed to consider the Doctor's offer for a moment, then smiled apologetically at him.

"If you asked me five minutes ago, I totally would be, but…Cliff sort of offered to…umm…teach me how to hunt. Most of the things in this town I'd leave in a second but…I think this might actually be something I want to do." The Doctor nodded.

"Well, enjoy the hunting." The Doctor paused for a moment, then handed Alex a card with a phone number scribbled on it in shaky black letters. "If you ever change your mind, you can call me at this number."

The boy wouldn't call. The Doctor had a certain sense for when a person was likely to grow bored of their situation and give him a ring, and Alex was not one of those people. The only reason he would have joined the Doctor was because he was an outcast in school and life, but now ostracism from his peers wouldn't matter. He had found a place. The Doctor smiled slightly: the boy could succeed at his chosen path, but it would take time and effort.

Alexander Mulch had a lot of work to do.


	9. Revelations and Suspicious Persons

_'You alright?'_

It was the first time River had spoken to him since he had taken her as a vessel, and it was both relieving and worrisome to hear her voice. On one hand, it meant that his Grace hadn't overwhelmed her, burned her up and left her body an empty shell for him to inhabit while he explained her death to the Doctor (which would have been a very awkward conversation, to say the least). On the other hand, it meant that his most recent flashbacks had distracted him enough that she had woken up. He had hoped to keep her asleep for this whole little possession fiasco, as being a vessel was not a very pleasant experience. The fact that he had lost enough of his control for her to wake meant that his memories were affecting him more strongly than he thought (and he thought they were affecting him very strongly).

_'I’m fine.'_

The woman responded with something that would have been a scoffing noise, had she had vocal cords. _'Honey, if this is you being fine, then I'm surprised you haven't exploded from unwarranted self-flagellation yet.'_

_'It isn’t unwarranted.'_

_'You're not even bothering to deny the first part. You're obviously not fine.'_

Cas sighed, sliding down from his position leaning against the wall onto the floor. She was right, of course. He wasn't fine. His memories were coming back quickly, bombarding him with images every time he saw something that reminded him of the past. Which, due to his thousands of years of existence, was happening almost constantly.

It wouldn't have been so bad if he had been remembering happy things, or comforting things. Hell, he'd even settle for slightly melancholy things. Unfortunately, being chased by Leviathans was not a good way to remember happy things, so instead he was treated to an enlightening montage composed of more or less everything he had ever done wrong.

The list of his misdeeds was disturbingly long.

He had to get back to the Winchesters. If anyone could prevent the Leviathans from swallowing the world whole it was them, and they would need all the help they could to emerge from the conflict with their lives. A fleeting image of Sam falling into the gaping maw of Hell, of Castiel arriving too late to save him, flickered in front of his eyes, and he thought for a moment that maybe his help wouldn’t be good enough, or even wanted. 

But it would have to do.

River sent him another one of her mental scoffs, _'Guilting yourself to death isn't going to help anyone, honey. I'm sure you did plenty of good things, too.'_

 _'And how would you know?'_  He could hear River's laugh, ringing in his ears.

_'If you hadn’t done anything good, then you wouldn't care about it. You wouldn't be sitting against a wall introspecting, you'd be running around cackling maniacally and blowing up planets. Only good people feel guilty about things, Cas,' A pause. 'Between you and the Doctor, you probably have more guilt saved up than everything else in the universe put together,' Cas cocked his head to the side, confused. 'Oh come on, don't tell me you haven't noticed! All it takes is one look and you can see how sad he is. He's the same as you, and that alone should tell you you're not evil.'_

She stopped talking then, leaving Cas alone to his thoughts once more, but they were less dark than they had been. He was going to find the Winchesters, and he would be good enough to deserve the right to help them.

* * *

 

The Doctor met Cas in the hallway and helped the angel to his feet, clapping a hand on the his back as he did so.

He walked side by side with the angel, moving toward the spot where they had parked the TARDIS, and he was just about to open the door when he came to a sudden realization.

He didn't feel nervous about Cas anymore. When he looked at the angel, he could still see River (he would always see River. How could he not? It was her body, after all), but he could also see the angel. He had  _seen_  the angel before, of course, he wasn't blind. It was just that he hadn't really acknowledged him, not as a separate entity. He thought he did, but now he realized that a part of him had just considered the angel to still be River, an illness infecting her and making her wrong. He hadn't been able to watch the not-River do things because seeing River act so out of character felt wrong. Now, though, he was looking at Cas. It wasn't strange to see Cas tilt his head to the left, or stand there, silent and still. It was just Cas.

And he was standing there like an idiot, processing all this. They should get going; Cas needed to wash off all the Leviathan goo, and then they needed to look for the Winchesters. Or find Cas a new body.

Because despite the fact that the Doctor was no longer repulsed by the angel’s wearing River's face, he would very much like to have her back.

* * *

 

Detective James Bristoll was spying on the strange teleporting creature and her companion. As much as he hated admitting to an activity with such negative connotations as spying, there was really no other way to describe it.

Something was up with Agents Smith and Novak. Really, it wasn't even a leap of logic to assume that the two of them, or at least the woman, were not human. After all, humans didn't typically teleport or heal. And despite the fact that they had been helpful this one time, Bristoll didn't trust them. As far as he was concerned, if it wasn't human it was a monster, and if it was a monster then it was just a matter of time before it went Dark Side.

The two mysterious Hunters had reached a phonebox, which confused Bristoll. There were no payphones in the area. And even if there were, they certainly would not be situated at the top of a hill outside of town. Smith pulled a key from his pocket and unlocked the door, stepping inside. Novak followed afterward. Bristoll wondered how they could both fit in that tiny box, and what they were doing there. The box had only looked big enough to fit two people if they were pressed against each other in a very uncomfortable and most likely sexual position and – oh God, Bristoll was never going to get that image out of his mind, was he?

When he focused his attention on the box again he realized that, yes, he was going to get that image out of his mind. In fact, he had already forgotten it, distracted by the fact that the box was disappearing. It faded gradually from the hilltop, and within a minute there was nothing left to suggest it had ever been there but a square of pressed-down grass. Bristoll tried and failed to think of something that travelled in such a manner. The detective didn't like the idea of confronting something he knew nothing about. He didn't like it because that meant there was a good chance that the Hunters didn't know about it either, and that sort of ignorance generally led to a lot of people dying. Sighing, Bristoll decided to warn someone (he couldn't just tell Cliff, the older hunter was practically smitten with the two strangers for some reason).

Instead, he scrolled through his cell phone contacts until he found the name he wanted:

_Singer, Bobby_

* * *

 

Eight hundred miles and a little over an hour later, Sam Winchester decided his brother needed a hunt to get his mind off of the Leviathans.


	10. Research and a Short Side Trip

"We aren't getting anywhere," Dean glared at his computer screen as though he wanted to punch a hole in it if it continued to be unhelpful. "All I can find on this 'man in a blue box' are whack jobs and some nerdy-looking British singers."

"I found something," Dean looked at Sam skeptically. The younger Winchester wore a rather smug grin. He threw a dusty leather journal to his brother. "Page twelve." Dean leafed through the first few pages until he found the passage Sam was talking about.

The Doctor is an enigmatic figure who can be traced back to the beginning of time, if not further. He has worn many different faces, though it is unclear if he is a shifter, or a creature capable of possessing humans. The simplest method of telling if the Doctor is present is if one sees his blue telephone box, which appears whenever he does. Often, his presence heralds some sort of calamity, though sources cannot seem to agree on whether he causes the disasters or attempts to prevent them.

He is often seen in the company of others who usually appear to be human. These could be thralls, willing accomplices, or others belonging to the same species as him. Most of these companions appear to be from the United Kingdom, where most of his activity takes place. If he is seen, caution should be exercised in confronting this ancient, clever and dangerous being.

"Disasters. Fuck. Do you think this guy could be involved with the Leviathans?" The slimy creatures had been fairly quiet since he had killed Amy (luckily Sam hadn't found out about that yet, and if Dean had anything to say about it he never would), but they were still a somewhat touchy subject. They had only made their way into conversation once or twice. Castiel, not at all. Dean told himself he would talk about him eventually, but he still got a little riled up whenever he thought too hard about the trenchcoat in the back of the Impala.

Besides, if he brought it up, Sam would try to get him to talk about his feelings, which was unnecessary. He didn't feel anything for the angel, other than usually pissed, and that was hardly something he needed to talk to Sam about. It was then that he realized Sam was talking, and that eventually staring in his little brother’s general direction and nodding at random intervals wouldn't work anymore, so he listened more closely.

"-I don't know. Dean, are you paying attention?"

"Totally, Sammy. So, this is another Leviathan case?"

Which would be just their luck. Dean had been trying to get his brother's mind off the Leviathans. He didn't even know why he bothered, though. The two of them were practically big bad magnets, so avoiding the creepy-crawlies on purpose was pretty much hopeless from the start. The only time they ever managed to get away from monsters of Leviathan caliber was when they were looking for the freaks.

“Can’t think of what else it could be.”

"Do we know anything else?"

"Umm, yeah. Just a few more reports of a similar-looking pair of Hunters showing up and taking care of Leviathans around here. Oh yeah, and we also got these pictures," Sam turned his laptop around and showed Dean the duo. Privately, he thought they looked harmless, and that worried him. All the worst creatures looked harmless.

"Guess we'd better head out then."

Sam nodded, picking up his empty beer and taking it to the kitchen. Bobby was there, so he gave him a quick rundown of the situation before going upstairs to pack his few possessions.

When they were throwing their things in the trunk, Sam noticed a folded bit of tan cloth. For a moment, he thought about mentioning it to his brother, but instead he just brushed his fingers against the fabric and wondered what he would do if he heard the familiar sound of wings behind him.

* * *

 

"I fail to see how a sweater vest could be of a low temperature. That seems to defeat the purpose."

The Doctor chuckled."No, no, no. That's not what cool means. Well, it is, but not right now. I mean cool as in hip," Cas blinked, so the Doctor tried again.

“Stylish? Awesome?”

Cas assumed the Doctor was using the word in the same way Sam and Dean had, "Oh. Why did you not just say so?"The previous chuckle turned into a full on laugh, and it took the Doctor a few moments to calm down. Cas was wearing a look that very clearly stated he did not appreciate being laughed at, nor did he understand why it was happening.

The two of them had been traveling back and forth in the time stream for a few months, and the Doctor was finding he actually really liked the angel. Not in the same "let me show you the universe" way he liked his ordinary companions, or the "you're my equal" way he liked River. He just liked him. The Time Lord imagined that his relationship with Cas was what having a normal friend would have been like, if not for the fact that being the only member of his species typically ruined the possibility of such a relationship.

Their relationship was further improved by the fact that Cas's mind had almost completely pulled itself back together. The first few weeks had been slow going, filled with seizure-like episodes and daymares, but after a while Cas had remembered everything that could be triggered by everyday activities. Now, the only time new information uncovered itself was after hunts.

The Doctor didn't like killing things, and had been rather forceful in his insistence that violence was not the answer…up until that point. Hunting was disturbingly easy to fall into and, even if Cas took care of about ninety-nine percent of the violence, it had taken a while before his pacifism had accepted the situation. Then he was confronted with a pair of Leviathans making a meal of a room filled with disabled children, and he had managed to swallow his discomfort. That was two and a half months ago. Now, they were sitting in the TARDIS after getting rid of a particularly nasty group of the things, and he was trying to get Cas to understand his fashion choices. All of a sudden, the angel went completely still.

"Stop here," It was not a request, but a command. The Doctor tried to figure out where "here" would be. North Dakota, 2012. Not so bad. Given the urgency in Cas' voice, the Doctor thought the stop would be worth it. He pulled a few levers, praying that the TARDIS would decide that it was worth their time, and sent the machine to a screeching halt.

"Okay, what's this about?" Cas didn't answer. Instead, the Doctor had a very sudden urge to look down. When his gaze went back up, Cas was gone.

\---

What are you doing? River demanded.

You'll see. Cas could feel River pouting, but she kept quiet. They were in the dimly lit hallway of what appeared to be an apartment complex. Cas walked purposefully down the hall. A light went out, completely independent of him. The angel doubted the owner of the place ever bothered to change them. Or fix anything else, considering the state of the place.

The door to apartment 333 was smashed off its hinges. Cas stepped carefully over a pile of rubble, his eyes sweeping left, then right. It looked empty. He moved quietly through the front room, picking a box of laundry soap up off the washer as he passed by it, and entered the only bedroom.

It was, quite distinctly, not empty. Between the scantily clad woman and the man she was strangling, it would have been quite difficult to miss them. The woman's (just a girl, really, she was probably no more than twenty) jaw unhinged, and several sets of sharp teeth appeared. She appeared to have already done a number on her…companion, judging by the blood coated liberally over the room, and was finally moving in for the kill.

Instead, she started sizzling as an entire box of borax hit her in the back of the head. Then, her head was no longer attached to her body. Then her body was on the floor. Cas eyed the dismembered body part with disgust and put it on the pillow before turning his attention to the man.

He was dying. Cas could feel that easily, and there was nothing the angel could do about it. Something about the black goo seemed to block his powers, as he had discovered many times during the past few months whenever he tried to heal someone, only to watch them die instead. Cas didn't like how that made him feel.

He wasn't here because of the Leviathan, though. One of the monsters wouldn't have been enough to attract his attention out in the vast, cold expanse that was the vortex. No. He was tugged there by a bright spot of light at the edge of his vision. He knew exactly what it meant. To be honest, he had been rather hesitant to follow it. Now, though, the guilt he would have felt was lessened.

"Tell me, do you believe in God?" Cas asked. The man didn't speak aloud, instead opting to reach up and hold the crucifix around his neck tightly. A yes then.

"Would you consent to being the vessel of an angel of the Lord?" The man looked confused for a second, but then he squinted at Cas, and he must have already been piercing the veil because an expression of comprehension settled on his face and he nodded. Cas closed his eyes. There was a vague sensation of movement, and when he woke up he was on the bed in the body of the man.

"Thank you," Cas whispered, though he knew his vessel's soul had already passed on, and began to work. Though it would have been impossible to clean out the body from the outside, as its sole occupant Castiel gained a far greater ability to remove the impurities within it, and he did so as quickly as possible. Then he helped a rather confused River Song to her feet and teleported back to the TARDIS.

The Doctor jumped when he saw a strange, ratty-looking thirty-something enter the TARDIS, one hand on River's arm.


	11. A Coincidental Meeting

"I've got it!" Dean cheered, snapping his phone shut. He sounded just pleased enough with himself that whatever "it" was, it was most likely important. Or the number of a particularly attractive hooker. Either way, Sam felt obligated to ask.

"What?"

"A lead on that blue box bastard," Dean looked, well, not quite happy, but as close to happy as he had been in a while. And why wouldn't he be? They'd been hunting the slippery creature for months after all, somehow only managing to catch him after he and his equally mysterious partner had already left, "There are some rumors about the thing being parked outside Dearborn. One of Bobby's friends picked it up and sent it over."

"Dearborn? Dean, we're  _in_  Dearborn."

Dean smiled, and it almost reached his eyes, "I know. That's the best part."

"Sounds too good to be true."

"Maybe, but it's the only lead we've gotten."

"It could be a trap."

"Well, we'll just have to be prepared then," Dean very deliberately put the phone down on the bedside table, signaling the end of the conversation, "Let's go," Sam sighed and picked up his jacket. By the time he had it on, Dean was already out the door.

* * *

 

"Cas?" The Doctor asked, both relieved that the angel was back and confused about the new presence in the room.

"No sweetie, sorry to disappoint." River smiled, and at the sudden realization that it was _her_ he resisted the urge to make some confused, uncontrolled hand motions that probably would have been extremely embarrassing.

"When did you-"

"Approximately five minutes ago," the scruffy-looking man said flatly, his eyes boring into the Doctor with an intensity the Time Lord had only encountered in a select few people. Only one of whom was capable of teleportation and still alive.

"Cas?"

Cas nodded, adjusting the worn black hoodie he was wearing. He looked uncomfortable in his own skin. Which he probably was, considering he had only gotten this new body five minutes ago. The Doctor could empathize with that feeling. River, on the other hand, did not look sympathetic in the least. Instead, she was looking at the angel with an expression of fond amusement. Then, she looked down at herself and frowned in mock distaste.

"Oh Castiel. I'm glad you helped me out, but honey, your  _fashion sense_ ," with that, she walked off, practically skipping in the direction of the wardrobes. The Doctor grinned. It was good to have River back.

"Is that why you ran out? You found someone who could work as a vessel?" The angel nodded, looking thoughtful.

"It was an…interesting experience. Taking a new vessel has given me memories of my last long-term form," Cas paused for a moment, "I remember where I last was, in that body."

"You do? That's great! We can use that to find your friends, can't we?"

"No. They will have moved on by now," The Doctor opened his mouth to say something, but he was interrupted by the sudden clunk of the TARDIS landing.

"Hmm, I didn't tell it to do that."

Cas walked over to the door of the TARDIS and peered out of it. Then, he peeked back in and tilted his head to the side.

"We are in Michigan."

"Well."

"I will retrieve River, you prepare yourself. There could be Leviathans here," Cas disappeared, leaving the Doctor alone in the control room.

"Umm. Alright then. What exactly am I supposed to do?" The TARDIS whirred slightly.

"Yes, that was very helpful. I'll keep that in mind," The Doctor said sarcastically. It let out the same noise, but in a lower, less amused tone.

"I'm sorry. You know I don't mean it."

"Are we going or do you want to keep being socially awkward? Because Cas and I can leave you to it if you really want," The Doctor glared at River, and she laughed. Cas let out a rush of breath that was similar to a sigh, but much more subtle. The three went outside, River carrying a gun on her thigh holster and a small box of borax in her pocket, Cas with an angel blade, and the Doctor with his sonic. He had invented a new setting. He liked to call it "sudsy".

* * *

 

"Where are we supposed to find a crazy British guy and his crazy British sidekick in Michigan?"

"Dean, stop whining," Sam didn't actually care much if Dean whined, but it would be nice if he whined slightly more quietly. They were sitting in the local diner, and the waitress was looking at them funny. Of course, she could just be trying to figure out whether to write her phone number on the check. Sam could never tell.

"I'm not whining," Dean whined, "I'm stumped."

"It can't be that hard. I mean, we have a picture of the guy," Sam waved his cell phone, a not-quite-in-focus picture of a long-faced man with floppy brown hair on the screen. One of the various Hunters they had talked to in the past few weeks had caught it. They, like most of the people who worked with the man, hadn't been quite sure whether he was a threat or one of the good guys. To be frank, Sam wasn't completely sure either. He seemed to be helping, but Bristoll had been very adamant about him being a monster. Either way, it couldn't hurt to talk to him.

The door opened, and three people walked in. The first looked like he needed a bath, the second looked like she needed a hair straightener and the third…

"Hey Dean."

"What, Sam?"

"I don't think finding him is going to be hard."

"Why?" Sam pointed. Dean looked, and barely restrained himself from flipping a shit. The man looked around, clapped his hands cheerily, and sat at a booth without waiting for a member of the wait staff to assist him. The other two followed, the woman smiling fondly and the scruffy-looking man keeping his expression blank. They began talking, and Sam strained to hear their discussion.

"I fail to see how visiting a diner will help us locate the disturbance," the scruffy man had a deep, level voice and a nondescript American accent.

"Well, maybe there are Leviathans in this diner," the man in the blue box stated very seriously. The disheveled man stared at him, until finally the man in the blue box broke, "Alright, I'll admit it. I was hungry."

"Sounds like a good enough reason for me," the woman said. The American seemed to accept this answer and continued looking at his menu. The waitress came. The man in the blue box ordered eggs, the woman pancakes, and the American a burger, despite the fact that it was eight in the morning. The three people sat in silence for a few minutes, then the woman looked straight at Sam.

"It looks like we're being spied on, boys," the American turned around, blinked, opened and closed his mouth a few times, then abruptly stood and walked toward the bathroom. The other two stared at each other for a moment before the man in the blue box stood and followed him.

"What the hell?" Dean muttered. The woman stood and walked over to them, smiling as she slid into their booth as though they were old friends.

"Hello Dean, Sam," Sam blinked. The day had just gotten a whole lot weirder.

* * *

 

In the men's bathroom, the Doctor found Cas leaning against the wall, staring fixedly at the cracked sink. He hadn't bothered to lock the door, so the Time Lord had taken that as a signal that he didn't really want to be alone. Or that he was too absorbed by whatever was bothering him to remember.

"Cas, what's wrong?"

"It's them," Cas said. His voice was calm, but the Doctor could see a slight strain around his eyes. He didn't have to ask who Cas meant by 'them.' He simply nodded contemplatively and leaned against the wall next to Cas.

"You're going to have to talk to them," Cas nodded, but didn't say anything. The Time Lord decided he would wait until the angel was ready. Then, he would drag him out to meet the Winchesters. He figured that was his responsibility as a friend.

 


	12. Chapter 12

 

River drummed her fingers on the table, her eyes drifting from the two men nearby to the bathroom and back again. For a moment she considered waiting for the Doctor and Cas to return. But that would have been boring, so instead she jumped up and strode over to the two brothers.

"So, you're the Winchester boys I've been hearing about," she glanced at Dean, "I thought you'd be taller," Casually, she slid into a seat across from them, ignoring the looks they were giving her.

"Who are you? How do you know who we are?" the smaller one (Dean, River guessed; Cas had said that Sam was often compared to a moose, which would match the man next to him) growled. A subtle glance under the table revealed that he was pointing a gun in her direction.

"That's rather rude of you. Not even going to invite me to dinner first?"

"Who. Are. You?"

"Call me River. Everyone else does."

"And how do you know who we are?"

"Why, Cas told me, of course," Dean's mouth, already open in response, shut again with a  _clack_.

"You knew Cas?"

"Well, I think  _know_  would be more accurate," River corrected, smiling widely.

"But…he's dead," Sam's eyes darted back and forth, as though looking for the angel, and River realized that the younger brother was afraid. Sure, Cas had often lamented about how he had destroyed his relationship with the Winchesters while he was possessing her, but he had kept most of his bad memories from her, so she assumed that was just the divine being's unhealthy sense of guilt. She supposed that Cas  _having_ one made sense, if Catholics were any measure of how devout individuals felt about their sins. Dean didn't seem to be as enraged as Cas had thought he would be.  _Though that might be because he thinks Cas is gone_. Sam, on the other hand, was scared. River supposed he had a right to be, given what Cas claimed to have done.

"No he isn't," she said, as casually as casually as possible, Dean's eyes widened even more, "He's in the bathroom."

"Wait, you mean that scruffy guy?" Dean asked. She nodded, and within seconds he was gone, headed toward the restrooms. Sam blinked once, twice, and then got up and followed a little more hesitantly. River leaned back in her seat, crossing one leg over the other and placing her hands behind her head.

"Miss, would you like anything to drink?" a waitress asked, confused as to where the original inhabitants of the table went.

"Tea, please." River said, smiling widely. This would either go very well or very badly. She would put her bets on success, however. Time had a way of sorting things out, and Cas was due for a good turn or seven.

* * *

 

"Cas?"

No answer.

"Let me in, Cas."

Faced with continued silence, the Doctor pulled out his sonic screwdriver, about to unlock the door, when it swung open with a rusty creak.

The bathroom was dusty, and probably didn't meet all of the local health codes, but the Doctor supposed it was a decent enough place to go when having a nervous breakdown. Cas was sitting on the toilet, staring in his direction. He wasn't crying, but he was close, and that was more upset than the Doctor had ever seen him.

"They are going to hate me," Cas said matter-of-factly.

The Doctor opened his mouth to say "I'm sure they won't," but then closed it and reconsidered. He didn’t _know_ if the Winchesters would forgive Cas. _He_ would, but he wasn't them. Hell, he didn't even  _know_  them. They might refuse to speak to him, or try to kill him, or they might want to continue their friendship like nothing ever happened (He doubted it would be the last one, at least not like that, but the optimist in him demanded he leave the option open).

"If they do, you'll always have a place in the TARDIS. She absolutely adores you, and River and I aren't far behind," It wasn't the best thing to say, but it was true, and Cas relaxed ever-so-slightly. The Doctor walked forward and the door swung shut. He was about to approach Cas, comfort him in his own awkward way, but was interrupted by the door squeaking back open. The Doctor turned.

"Is it really you, Cas?" The angel nodded ever so slightly, and Dean stormed into the room, pushing past the Doctor and knocking him into a wall. The Doctor stood back up and examined his shirt, pursing his lips at a smudge of  _something_  on the sleeve. When he looked back over at the angel and human, he could see Dean standing in front of Cas, glaring down at him. If the Doctor looked closely at the Hunter's hands, he could see them trembling faintly. The right one clenched into a fist, and before the Doctor could so much as blink it collided with Cas' face. Cas thoughtfully turned his head to the side along with the punch, but Dean still clutched his hand in pain.

"Ow. I need to stop doing that," Dean looked at Cas for a long moment, then pulled the angel to his feet and pulled him into a tight hug.

"I thought you were dead," he said. Cas nodded into his chest. "Never do that to me again, you feathery son of a bitch," Sam came into the bathroom then and the Doctor, realizing this was about to become a very private moment, made a swift exit.

* * *

 

"Cas."

"Sam," Cas said solemnly, once Dean released him, "I’m sorry." Sam nodded.

"I know."

"It isn't enough," There was no question in the angel's voice.

"No," Cas bowed his head and Sam felt regretful for a moment.

"Look, Cas, I  _want_  to forgive you, alright?” _I can't_ , he thought,  _not with Lucifer standing behind me singing ABBA_ , "I will eventually," _probably_ , "but give me some time, okay?" Cas nodded.

"What, I don't get an apology?" Dean asked, with an expression of what was clearly mock hurt, most likely trying to clear the tension.

"I am sorry, Dean," Apparently Cas hadn’t caught the sarcasm. That wasn't really his fault, though. Sam thought it was a rather inappropriate joke.

"Yeah, I know you are. Now, wanna go introduce us to your friends?" Cas relaxed, just a little, and allowed Dean to lead him back out into the diner. Lucifer pouted from his perch beside the sink, then disappeared when Sam began to smile.

Everything wasn’t alright, but it was getting better.

And for a Winchester, that was good enough.


End file.
